


Impractical Joke

by celticmuse



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celticmuse/pseuds/celticmuse
Summary: A night of liberty on Risa takes a series of unexpected turns for Dr. McCoy, Spock, and Christine Chapel
Relationships: Christine Chapel & Spock
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

"Is the suite to your liking, sir?" Leonard McCoy looked up find a scantily dressed young woman opening the French doors which led to the private terrace, revealing the breathtaking panoramaic of the Risan Sea at sunset.

"Great, thanks." McCoy answered dropping his travel bag on the luxuriously appointed bed that dominated the main room. 

"If there is anything else you want, anything you desire…all that is ours is yours." The hostess said seductively, echoing the ubiquitous phrase he'd heard a dozen times since the shuttle deposited him at the exclusive beachfront resort ten minutes ago. Her implication seemed lost on the good doctor who dropped exhausted onto the overstuffed chair by the giant viewscreen. 

"Y'all have room service?" he asked, then suddenly stiffened as the full implication of her previous statement hit him. "For food," he added nervously, "can I have dinner brought to my room?" 

"Here at Paradise, it is our pleasure to see that all of your desires are fully satisfied, Doctor. There are menus on the viewscreen." She picked up a tiny controller and at her touch the screen filled with an enticing stream of mouthwatering dishes of every imaginable cuisine. "You have only to touch the item on the screen and it will be brought to you." The woman edged closer he caught the sweet spicy scent of her perfume as it mingled with the fragrance of the night blooming crimson yalanthe flowers on the terrace. 

"Each channel features a different pleasure available to our guests." She touched the device again displaying scenes of the numerous pools and spas the resort offered as well as the pristine beach and sparkling blue ocean, then came images of beings of every species, of every gender, pleasuring one another in various and some mind-boggling combinations. 

"I'm not really looking for…" he sprang to his feet as he saw two Carsassian females and two Andorian males engaging in an apparent sexual act he'd not thought physically possible. He snatched the controller from her slender hand, pressing the unit until the screen went dark. "I'm here for a night of rest and relaxation." 

The hostess responded by running her hand across his chest and unfastening the clasp of his uniform tunic. 

He removed her hand and took a step back putting the chair between them. "Not that kind of relaxation. 

"Look, you're a lovely girl, but I'm here for a bottle of good brandy, a nice dinner and a quiet night of sleep in a real bed without the emergency claxtons going off every hour. I haven't had a decent night of sleep in the past five months. "

"Very well then, but if you should change your mind…all that we have…"

"Is mine, yeah I know. Maybe next time darlin'"

"Perhaps so," she smiled then turned and left him alone. 

The doctor sighed and set to unpacking his small overnight bag. It had been a long and grueling five months since Kirk had him dragged kicking and screaming from the front porch of his country retreat in Georgia and summarily drafted back into the service of Starfleet. There was no denying that he was no longer a young man and sometimes saving the entire universe before lunch on a weekly basis was getting to be more than he could handle. 

Though he'd never admit it, he was glad that Jim called him back. He missed the adventure of life on the Enterprise almost as much as he'd missed his crewmates. It had been a mistake taking the early retirement offer, but with Jim kicked up to Fleet HQ in Frisco, Christine's hasty departure for Med School, and that boneheaded Vulcan running off to Gol to have the last bit of his humanity ritually purged, the idea of five more years wandering deep space had seemed less than palatable. 

It was good being back together again. His former head nurse was now a highly skilled physician and having Chapel to assist him, when they weren't butting heads, was a godsend. Even with Christine's assistance, the shakedown cruise of a newly designed ship with the added complication of an equally new untested crew was taxing and when the opportunity for an overnight leave on Risa presented itself he had jumped at the chance. 

He'd been fortunate to find the opening at the exclusive resort on such short notice, and though he'd initially balked at the price, a night of peace and quiet in this idyllic setting was more than worth the outlay of credits. 

Working up his courage, he scrolled through the menus on the viewscreen and ordered several plates of local delicacies and a bottle of rare vintage Saurian brandy, hoping that the provocatively dressed hostess wouldn't be delivering his order personally. 

Scrolling through the entertainment programs he found some of his favorite classical music and changed into some silky lounging pants and long tunic while he awaited his dinner. 

Barely a quarter hour later he heard the soft knock at this door. A young man, as provocatively clothed as his female counterpart, entered with a small antigrav unit laden with several containers. The host artfully arranged the plates of food on the small table then poured a generous serving of the expensive brandy into a crystal tumbler. 

"Is there anything else you desire, Doctor?" There was no mistaking the young man's body language or the implication of his inviting smile. McCoy sighed; apparently the hostess misread his disinterest in her charms and had sent in another team. 

"All I desire’, my friend, is a good drink, a nice meal and eight hours of uninterrupted sleep." 

"Very good sir, enjoy you stay at Paradise, all that we have…"

"Is mine, yeah got it." 

McCoy downed the drink in a single gulp then refilled his glass as he perused the platters of local fruits, meats and vegetables. He was just about to spear a roasted purple tuber when he heard a loud thump against the wall his room shared with the neighboring suite. It was followed in short order by a staccato series of noises which he realized were being caused by the headboard beating against the wall, the rhythm was embarrassingly familiar. 

Then came loud moaning, the voice clearly female, which, coupled with the sound of the headboard banging against the wall could only mean one thing. His neighbors were apparently engaged in sex, and having a damn fine time of it if the woman's enthusiastic moaning was any indication. The banging grew louder and faster, and the woman's pleasured moaning increased in response. Had he not been so tired he'd have been impressed with the man's stamina, assuming of course that it was a man or even that his neighbors were human. 

Following a crashing crescendo worth of a Sousa march the pair, apparently sated, were quiet. McCoy raised his glass to their common wall in a mock toast before returning his attention to the lavish meal before him. 

But his respite was astonishingly short lived as within moments the rhythmic banging against the common wall began once more in earnest. 

Well that settled it, there was no way his amorous neighbors were human, at least not the male. 

He squirmed uncomfortably at the sound woman's deep moaning, there was something about it, something almost …familiar? 

"You'd think for a thousand credits a night they'd have some dang soundproofing in the walls," he said glumly as he refreshed his drink. 

The moaning became louder, but the next thing he heard almost made his heart stop. 

"Oh Commander, your powers of recovery are truly amazing." 

"Really Christine, I should think we are beyond titles at this point." 

"I suppose so oh oh oh yes that's it…yes right there…don't stop." 

"It would be most illogical to stop at this point, Christine." 

"Son of a… Chapel and Spock?" McCoy exclaimed as the crystal tumbler fell from his hand, shattering on the polished marble floor. It wasn't possible? Christine Chapel and that blasted green blooded hobgoblin? 

"Oh yes harder, harder," he was certain that was Chapel's voice urging her partner on. But Spock? 

"Naw, that's impossible." 

Whoever her partner was, he quickly acquiesced to her desire and the tempo of the headboard against the wall picked up accordingly. 

"Oh Spock…yes, oh yes." 

"Okay, maybe not impossible." He grumbled as he retrieved a second glass from the tray and filled it to the brim. Within moments the percussive sounds of aerobic intercourse signaled the start of round three. 

Whatever was going on there was only one thing he was certain about. He wasn't going to be getting any sleep if he stayed here tonight. After quickly stuffing his uniform and the bottle of brandy into his bag, then accessing the viewscreen to notify the front desk he was checking out, he commed the Enterprise. 

"Kirk here what's up, Bones?" 

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe it, Jim boy. Can you authorize a priority beam out from these coordinates?" 

"You Doctor, using the transporter voluntarily." Kirk responded with a chuckle. "What's the problem? You've been going on about this liberty on Risa for the past month. I can't believe you're that anxious to escape from paradise." 

"It's more like I'm being driven out by a pointy eared devil. Can you have Rand beam me out or not?" 

"Sure Bones, I'm relaying the order to her now." 

McCoy took one last look at his paradise as it disappeared in the soft shimmer of the transporter beam. 


	2. Chapter 2

Christine Chapel fell back onto the bed her pale skin flushed, a smile of blissful satisfaction illuminating face.

"He is gone?"Spock asked as he dropped beside her on the bed. 

"Yes,” she answered struggling to catch her breath. "I heard the transporter beam." 

"He used the transporter?" Spock responded, a raised eyebrow telegraphing his surprise. 

"I guess he couldn't wait to make his escape. You were wonderful, by the way, Mister Spock." 

"Thank you, Doctor, I must admit it was considerably more enjoyable than I had imagined." 

"I just wish I could have seen his face." 

"I had anticipated your desire and took the liberty of tapping into the security cameras in the doctor's suite while I disabled the sound dampening equipment in the wall." 

"I love a man who can multitask almost as much as I love a man who anticipates my desires." 

He raised a puzzled eyebrow and Chapel responded with a peevish sigh at the Vulcan's apparently inability to grasp the nuances of human conversation. "I am pleased that you thought to tape his reaction." 

"We make a good team," he said, prying the computer access panel open and returning the systems to their normal setting. 

"I couldn't have done this without you." She got up from the bed and retrieved a small overnight bag from the closet. "This makes up for every stupid practical joke McCoy has played on me for the last five months." 

"I do not understand how putting a live snake in your desk drawer would be considered humorous? It does not fit the definition of a joke as I understand it, nor would I deem it in any way practical." 

"The point is to cause embarrassment or discomfort in the victim which the joker finds humorous, like when he switched out the scheduled crew holovid for his bootleg copy of ‘My Vulcan Love Master’ last week." 

"I found no humor in that." He nodded gravely. "Would it not more logically be called an impractical joke?" 

"I should think by now, you'd have given up look for logical explanations for human behavior." 

Christine had, in truth, found the legendary soft core porn film hilarious, but there was no need to tell Spock that, especially when he'd gone to so much trouble to aid her in the elaborate prank on McCoy. She had been amazed when the he had suggested accompanying her to Risa and assist in her plan to teach her boss a long overdue lesson. Christine stifled a laugh realizing that she was sitting in the middle of what, at one time, had been her most cherished fantasy, and probably Spock's worst nightmare, the two of them alone in a hotel room. Perhaps the universe had a sense of humor. 

"I didn't realize pretending to have sex would work up such a sweat. There's a thirty jet steam shower in the fresher with my name on it." As the Vulcan's eyebrow edged upward Christine quickly added, "I'm going to take a shower. Hey I really do appreciate all of your help with this. Thanks!" 

He nodded his understanding and returned to his task. Christine paused and watched him for a moment. The dark tshirt he wore displayed his well-muscled shoulders to excellent advantage. What a waste of a nice hotel room she mused briefly. There was no way she would go down that road again, but that didn't mean she couldn't stop for a moment and enjoy the view. Perhaps, she laughed to herself, a cold shower might be better. 

Spock looked up as Christine padded to the fresher The regulation burgundy sweats she wore hanging loosely along her soft curves. They had grown closer in the past five months; it was a most unexpected, though not unwelcome development. Far from it, he had recently come to understand that he enjoyed her company and in fact he wished for more, much more from her. Thus far however, he'd been unsuccessful in finding the proper way to communicate his newfound desire to her. 

There was an easy camaraderie between them now, something which had eluded them in the first mission, and he was uncertain as to how these new sentiments would be received now. During their first mission she had declared her love for him, albeit under the influence of an alien virus. He had been pledged to T'Pring and propriety had forced him to reject Christine’s feelings out of hand. Did she still have feelings for him? It was a question he was not comfortable asking, and she had not felt the need to volunteer the information. 

When she'd mentioned her plan to turn the tables on McCoy he saw the opportunity for them to spend some time alone together. It has seemed a bit cruel to deprive the doctor of his greatly desired holiday, but he had endured a most uncomfortable week of furtive looks from the crew after the doctor's impromptu showing of "My Vulcan Love Master" In this particular instance, he decided, the good of the one, McCoy, was outweighed by the good of advancing the relationship between Christine and himself. 

Now they were here alone, their joint mission accomplished and he anxiously contemplated his next move. Romance. It was not a concept he truly understood, but he knew that a human female required romantic feelings as a prelude to mating. Vulcan women had no such need. For Vulcans the bonding with its total joining of minds and hearts precluded the need for the mechanics of romance. Needs and desires were constantly shared, always one always and never touching and touched. 

But he did not desire a Vulcan woman. He desired Christine Chapel, a human woman, and he would have to approach her in a human way. 


	3. Chapter 3

Christine wrapped herself in the soft fluffy robe the hotel had so thoughtfully provided. The real hot water shower with no timer had been a wonderful indulgence, bordering on decadent she decided as she ran the vaporizer over her wet hair leaving her curly hair instantly dry. The growling of her stomach demanded her immediate attention. Spock had most likely returned to the ship by now, so she'd have the suite to herself for the rest of the night. The Paradise was known throughout several galaxies for its cuisine and the prospect of a five star dinner and a bottle of vintage wine sounded like heaven. She quickly slipped into a silky lounging dress as she contemplated a quiet evening of relaxation.

Soft music and the sweet scent of night blooming Deltan roses greeted Christine as she exited the fresher. The room, darkened now that the sun had set, was lit with dozens of candles and the silvery glow of Risa's twin moons. The pale damask curtains billowed sensuously in the warm evening breeze coming through the French doors and the tantalizing aroma of exotic spices drew her to the candlelit table on the terrace. 

"I took the liberty of arranging for dinner while you were showering, Christine." Spock rose from his chair and moved toward her, holding out a finely carved crystal goblet filled with a ruby red liquid. "I hope you will find my choices appetizing." 

Christine regarded the scene before her in startled silence uncertain of how to react, studying him carefully for some clue of what was going on. For a moment wondered if there was some sort of hallucinogenic in the Risan shower gel. 

"You are displeased? I could order something else." 

"No, it all smells wonderful." She took the proffered glass, keeping a wary eye on her companion. 

"It is a lovely evening, is it not? I thought we might find it pleasant to enjoy our meal out of doors." His voice was strange, slightly deeper than usual and there was something different in the way he was looking at her, something she couldn't quite identify. 

"Yes, it's a lovely evening," she agreed taking the remaining seat at the table. She felt suddenly uncomfortable sitting across from him in her skimpy silken dress. Grasping for a shred of modesty she pulled the stretchy fabric lower to cover some of her bare thighs, a move which merely had the effect of edging the plunging neckline down further revealing more of the soft swell of her breasts. "I'd have…my clothing… isn't really for …I had assumed you'd gone back to the ship." 

He raised a puzzled eyebrow. "I believe recall is at planetary noon tomorrow, though I had not considered you might have other plans for the evening." 

"No, no other plans." Planetary noon? What the hell? Was he planning to spend the night? Christine pinched herself hoping to awake and find this some bizarre dream. 

The uncharacteristic warmth in his dark eyes sent a surprising rush of desire coursing through her. No, she cautioned herself sternly, forcing the incipient longing down, don't do this to yourself, Christine, not again. It had taken her two years of self-help books, support groups, and three different therapists but she was over him. She had finally accepted that he would never be able to reciprocate her feelings and had made some real progress in moving on with her life. 

What in the hell was going on here? Moonlight, candlelight, wine, romance, none of this was Spock. Sure after the encounter with V'ger Spock was considerably warmer and more open than he'd been during the first mission, and he didn't run in the other direction every time he saw her coming like she had a terminal case of intergalactic cooties but he was still the quintessential Vulcan who would certainly find no logic in a romantic candlelit dinner for two. Something was definitely not right. 

Could it be something in the food or the water here at the resort? A quick scan would get to the bottom of things, but in the interest of traveling light she'd left her medikit back in her office on the ship. She briefly considered the Vulcan mating fever, but based on the timing of his last cycle it was still years too soon. 

There was no question that something was very wrong, but the insistent growling of her stomach demanded her immediate attention. Taking one of the exquisite china plates she filled it with an assortment of the exotic delicacies he'd selected for their meal, all vegetarian as far as she could tell, and busied herself with the business of eating dinner. Whatever was going on with Spock, like most of the major disasters in her life, would be best faced on a full stomach. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Spock watched as Christine placed some of the roasted vegetables on her plate, the soft mixture of candlelight and moonlight illuminating her fair skin. He hoped she found the setting and meal the hostess helped him select pleasing. 

Six years, eight months, ten days, eleven hours, and twenty two minutes had elapsed since the first time he'd seen her moving across the mess hall with a cup of coffee. Even after all of this time it was difficult to admit the visceral emotion her easy laugh and soft feminine curves had drawn from him in that moment. Deep in conversation with Rand and Uhura, she had unexpectedly turned in his direction and met his gaze with eyes the color of a terran summer sky. He had looked away, embarrassed by the impropriety of his thoughts for a woman, a human woman, who was not his bondmate. 

Her impassioned declaration of love had drawn them together and at the same time made any sort of connection between them unthinkable. The strength, the selflessness with which she loved had terrified him. He was Vulcan, how could he find it within himself to give her the love she so richly deserved? It was an impossible situation. He had a mate waiting for him on Vulcan, waiting for the time when his Vulcan biology would draw him home to join with her, a time that he had fervently prayed would never come. 

That touch of Christine's unconditional love had made the prospect of joining with the cold calculating T'Pring even more unpalatble. The bonding, arranged by T'Pau herself, was an advantageous alliance for T'Pring's family who found Sarek's extensive holdings a fair trade for bonding their daughter with one who bore the stigma of tainted _qomi_ blood. Even now, more than three decades later, he could feel the icy touch of T'Pring's distain for him as T'Pau joined their young minds in the bond. 

_Kaiidth!_ It was illogical to dwell on that which was in the past; the past could not be changed. What mattered now was the present and the woman seated across from him, a mate of his own choosing. A mating he had denied them for far too long. Tonight that denial would end; he would show her his commitment to meeting her needs, to shared desire, a commitment to a life together. 

A cool breeze blew up from the ocean and he saw the subtle tightening of her nipples through the thin lacy fabric of her dress. He was so completely aware of her, the soft sound of her breathing, the soft glow of her skin, the smell of the perfume she wore, and another more delicate fragrance sweet and slightly musky, decidedly feminine. 

He took a deep calming breath; he was getting ahead of himself. What would Jim do in this situation? He wondered briefly. Kirk would no doubt have already taken her in the shower, then he took another deep breath as the image of Christine's body covered in shower gel took over his mind. 

He could not deny a certain amount of anxiety over his lack of sexual experience. Several weeks ago he'd inadvertently overheard Rand and Uhura as they'd discussed their recent sexual encounters in hushed conspiratorial whispers, though not sufficiently hushed for Vulcan hearing. It appeared that human females placed a high premium on the size of the male's sexual organ as well as his repertoire of pleasuring techniques. As with most human endeavors, there was apparently no premium placed on efficiency, and the male was expected to make the experience last as long as possible. 

What if Christine found him a clumsy or unsatisfying lover? Would she "drop him like a hot rock", a practice Uhura apparently endorsed in that situation. The ship's computer library had been helpful in providing explicit information on human sexual practices. The range of variation was staggering. He'd decided that he would let her set the pace and simply follow her lead in indicating her desires. He lifted the glass of Risan wine to his lips and took a long drink. He hoped this would be a night that neither of them would ever forget.


	4. Chapter 4

"You are quiet tonight."

Spock's soft voice drew Christine from troubled musings. 

"I understood Vulcans preferred silence during a meal." 

"It is a custom I abandoned long ago. I find good conversation enhances the experience of sharing a meal." 

There was something in the way he spoke that word sharing that sent another wave of desire rushing through her like fire though dry kindling. Dry, she felt a knot in her stomach tighten at how well that term described her. In her desperation to get over him and reclaim her life she'd turned her back on love, focusing herself on her career with Starfleet. It seemed like her whole life was finally back on track. She wasn't chasing across the galaxy for a fiancé, a man that she barely knew. She wasn't chasing across a starship for a Vulcan First Officer, a man who barely knew she was alive. 

She had returned to the Enterprise six months ago as the first woman to be appointed CMO of a galaxy class starship-- a starship with a new captain and a mostly new young crew who never knew Christine Chapel the silly young nurse hopelessly in love with the stoic Vulcan First Officer. She was Doctor Chapel Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise, flagship of the Federation Fleet. Life was good. That probably should have been her first red flag. The entity that called itself V'ger had come screaming across the universe threatening to wipe out all of humanity. 

All had seemed hopeless. Then he'd come back, like the hero in a cheesy holovid, and saved them all. In the brilliant light of hindsight, that should have been her exit cue. McCoy bumped in as CMO and she could have had her pick of billets on a dozen ships. Yet she had stayed on the Enterprise accepting the position as McCoy's assistant. Maybe she needed to show them how wrong they'd been to write her off as a foolish lovestruck young woman during the first mission. Maybe she needed to prove that to herself as well. Ironically she and Spock had become fast friends this time around, a real friendship that she had come to value over the past six months. 

Now it was all crashing down around her. Something was wrong with him, possibly with both of them, and they needed to get back to the ship where she had access to a mediscan. Nothing on Risa should be causing this reaction; the resort met all Federation guidelines for both Terran and Vucan physiological profiles. But the man across the table stealing furtive glances down the front of her dress wasn't the Spock she knew. 

Son of a …McCoy! The flash of realization hit her like a photon torpedo. Damn it! Barely a week ago McCoy, had shown her the article on the new Risan technology for creating fully functional customized pleasure surrogates to order, indistinguishable in every way from the real thing. He'd even playfully teased her about getting herself her own Vulcan love toy. She'd glanced through the article which downplayed the more prurient aspects of the technology focusing instead on possible medical implications for reconstructive procedures. 

How could she have been so blind? Of course, it was all so perfectly clear. McCoy had set her up with an android facsimile of Spock. Cold hearted bastard ….this was low even for McCoy. He knew how hard it had been for her to get past her feelings for Spock and move on with her life; this was beyond cruel and so far over the line that the line wasn't even in the same universe anymore. Okay Chris, keep your cool, she cautioned herself, play along until you can figure out how to turn this around. 

There had to be a camera somewhere; what would be the point of the sick joke if he didn't get to see the results of his handiwork? McCoy wasn't tech savvy enough to hack into the security cameras, so it was most likely installed in the android itself. She wondered how far McCoy would let it go before pulling the plug. In a flash a plan started to form; she would take his little drama off script. If he wanted a war then war it would be. 

"The dinner was delicious." she said softly as she leaned across the table. "But now I find myself craving dessert, something…sweet. We are, after all, on a planet designed for pleasure. Would it not be logical to…indulge ourselves?" 

"Highly logical," he nodded. "I shall get the menu." 

"I don't believe that what I hunger for will be on the menu." 

"What did you have in mind?" 

She rose slowly and nodded toward their room shifting her gaze to the large bed that dominated the lavish room.

He silently nodded his agreement and she proceeded into the bedroom. Spock set the retrieval control on the table and waited for the soft hum of the transporter beam as it removed the remains of their meal, then followed Christine into the bedroom. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- He found her sitting on the bed, the silky scarf she'd worn when they beamed down draped around her shoulders. 

"Are you cold?" he asked. 

"No, not at all." She removed the scarf and began absently wrapping it around her hand, unwrapping it then wrapping it again. "May I ask you a personal question?" 

"Yes." 

"Do Vulcan's have fantasies?" 

"Fantasies?" 

"Thoughts," she paused searching for an explanation, "sexual thoughts, role-playing, acting out secret or forbidden desires?" 

"Occasionally. There are at times, fleeting thoughts of such things, though we would refrain from dwelling on them." 

"My people enjoy exploring their secret desires though imagining or even acting out various scenarios. Sometimes, with the right partner we are able to bring these fantasies to fruition." 

"With the right partner?" 

"Yes." 

"You have such a fantasy?" 

"Yes." She smiled shyly. "Ever since the night I saw McCoy's holovid. There is a scene where Stovak forces Moira to tie him to the conference table in the Vulcan Council chambers and make love to him. I must tell you I've never felt so… aroused in my whole life. It's all I've been able to think about the last week. What it would be like… you know… for us to reenact that scene…together." 

A strange combination of shock and arousal raged within him. Though he'd have been loathe to admit he'd seen the legendary porn film when he'd been a student at the academy, the image of the muscular Vulcan male tied to the table, as the nubile young terran female impaled herself upon him was almost impossible to erase from his memory. The idea of a Vulcan giving up control in that manner had been more shocking that the spectacle of the pair writhing in ecstasy on the very table where it was believed Surak had written the first draft of the disciplines. 

Though he didn't find the prospect of sexual bondage particularly appealing, he had committed himself to whatever would be necessary to assure her he would satisfy her sexual needs. 

"As you wish." 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Remove your shirt." 

He skinned off the thin dark t shirt and stood waiting her next command. 

Christine smiled, McCoy must be having a coronary by now. It seemed that he was actually going to let this run to its obvious conclusion. 

"Put your wrists together." Again he complied and she deftly tied his hands with the scarf. 

"Get up on the bed." 

He maneuvered himself up onto the huge bed and waited. Christine crawled up from the bottom and gently pushed him onto his back, then straddled his chest as she carefully lifted his bound hands back over his head and tied them to the headboard. She ran her hands along his arms then down across his chest and smiled before scooting down and kneeling beside him. With one fluid movement she grasped the waistband of his regulation athletic pants and briefs and pulled them down and off as if he were a patient in a medibed. His dark olive green penis, fully erect and considerably larger than she'd expected, now freed from the constrictive prison of his pants, sprang to full attention. She wasn't sure whether to be pleased with McCoy for this Spock's enhanced anatomy or angrier. 

His dark eyes watched in anxious fascination as she pressed a button at the footboard and released a pair of dark red velvet ropes. "I guess they mean it when they say everything we have is yours." She quickly tied one of the restraints to each of his ankles, then kneeling between his spread legs sat back on her heels to admire her handiwork. 

With the soft flickering candlight playing over the alien verdigris patina of his well toned body he looked like some ancient terran god sculpted by Michelangelo. 

"You are so beautiful," she said running a hand up a well sculpted leg, not bothering to suppress the admiration in her voice. "A true work of art." 

He moaned softly as the hand continued its upward journey. She ran a curious finger along the ridge of his penis eliciting another deep moan. "Simply remarkable. The medical implications really are staggering. 

"You son of a bitch! I thought you were my friend you sack of …" "Christine!" Spock shouted struggling against his bonds. 

"You of all people," she continued, her voice shaking. "You know how much I loved him, how hard it was to move on. How could you do this to me? Well Leonard this time you've gone too far. You can start filling out my transfer paperwork right now you bucket of slime. I'll be looking for another posting as soon as I beam back to the ship." 

"Christine, what are you talking about? I do not understand what is going on." 

"I'm sure you don't, sweetheart." She patted his cheek tenderly as if he were a small child, then hopped off of the bed and disappeared into the fresher. When she emerged she had redressed herself and was carrying her overnight bag. 

"Christine, please release me immediately. Have you lost your mind?" 

"That's open to debate." she responded taking one last look around the room to make certain nothing was left behind. Satisfied she had all of her belongings she flipped open her communicator. 

"Jan, it's Chris." 

"I heard you and Spock really got McCoy good tonight." 

"Apparently not as good as I thought. Can you beam me back from these coordinates? I promise you a story you won't believe." 

"Doctor Chapel! If you don't release me immediately I shall have you court-martialed!" 

"Where, Commander Android, on the Bizzaro Planet?" 

"Who are you talking to, Chris?" "A naked android." 

"What the…"

"I'll explain later." 

"Signal when you're ready." 

"Release me now!" 

She moved back toward the bed regarding him almost tenderly. "You really are beautiful." She leaned in close and slowly licked her lips bringing her soft berry colored lips to his, then apparently changed her mind, reached over his face snatching the elegantly molded chocolate from the pillow. "Maybe I'll call you next time I'm in town. 

"Energize." 


	5. Chapter 5

The cave was dark and cold, very cold. Christine moved forward slowly, praying for some small bit of light to guide her out of this chamber of horrors. He was in here somewhere; she felt it in her heart, and she was going to find him. But her persistence only served to lead her deeper into the maze of tunnels and to yet another dead end. She was almost ready to give up when she saw a patch of light flickering in the distance.

Christine sighed as large warm hands moved skillfully over her body caressing her breasts. "Yes," she moaned "There, yes…" letting out a sharp cry of delight as soft and equally skilled lips joined the long slender fingers pleasuring her. "Please… yes," she felt another pair of hands reaching from behind her, making their own journey of exploration to the lower half of her body working their own sweet magic, and a second pair of lips began trailing soft kisses along her neck whispering her name again and again, a litany of longing, his breath hot against her ear, driving her mad with desire. 

"Roger?" 

"Yes Christine." She felt him move away from her, as the soft lips abandoned their labors at her breasts and moved lower. So long, it had been so long since she'd known this sweet ecstasy. How long, she struggled to remember the last time she and Roger had made love. The night before….when? Yes the night before he'd left for Exo III. Exo III, something, a ghost of a memory fluttered on the edge of her awareness just beyond her grasp. 

"She is ready to be mated." There was a second voice, a deep warm male voice, and familiar. 

"Proceed," Roger responded from somewhere in the distance. The second man was within her now moving slowly at first but with a rising cadence, each thrust precisely measured, clear and primal in its intent. 

"So good," she said her voice barely a whisper. 

"I was created to please you, Christine, all that we have is yours." 

"Spock?" 

Christine sat up to find herself alone in a sea of darkness. 

"Lights fifty percent." The lighting came up and she found herself in her own quarters. She got up and checked the chrono on her desk. It was just past oh four hundred hours. 

That was the third crazy android sex dream in the past two hours. Obviously she wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. She peeled off her nightgown and tossed it into the laundry chute before heading into the fresher for a quick sonic shower. It wasn't as decadent as the thirty jet spa shower on Risa, but it got the job done. 

It was nearly five hundred hours as she twisted her dark hair into loose French knot. Although it was almost eight hours until she was back on duty, she wanted to get into her office before McCoy came on duty. Though she'd given him quite an earful via his android love machine last night, she still wasn't ready to face her boss in person until she had her transfer in place. 

"False friends are worse than bitter enemies." It was something great-grandma Chapel used to say and now Christine truly felt the meaning of the old Scottish adage. The idea that one of her dearest friends could have used her feelings as the butt of some stupid joke had cut her deeply. But there was another equally painful truth she needed to face. There had been a moment, just a moment, in the Risan moonlight when she'd believed that Spock finally wanted her. It was time to stop lying to herself. She wasn't over him; she was never going to be over him. 

If she stayed on here it was just a matter of time until she was once again the pathetic lovesick fool chasing a man who would never love her. There was no choice, she had to get off of this ship now while she had the chance. It would take a few hours to find a posting and get her transfer paperwork in order. 

Sickbay was fairly quiet, the ward empty save for a pair of ensigns who'd ended up on the losing end of a barfight. Christine perused their charts briefly, it appeared that their pride had suffered more than their bodies, and they'd be released upon waking. She helped herself to a cup of strong black coffee from the nurse's station and headed for her office. 

It didn't take long to find half a dozen potential positions. A couple might be seen as lateral moves, the rest clearly would be seen as a demotion. A teaching position at Starfleet medical looked the most promising, though the billet in Operations might offer more opportunities for career advancement. The quite audible grumbling of her stomach convinced her that the final decision could wait until after a trip to the replicator at the nursing station for some breakfast. 

The office door opened with a soft swooshing sound and Christine found herself face to face with Commander Spock. There was something menacing in his bearing, the tight set of his jaw, and a coldness in his eyes and that caused her to step back defensively. He took that opportunity to enter her office, palming the door closed behind him. 

"Were I not loathe to answer the inevitable questions it would raise, you would be in the brig awaiting court-martial even as we speak." He continued moving toward her backing her against the far wall, effectively trapping her. 

"Court martial? What in the hell…" Christine froze speechless as he dropped the tattered remnants of her silk scarf onto the desk. 

"I will have an explanation, Lieutenant Chapel, and I will have it now!" 

Christine stared at the shredded fabric in stunned disbelief as she fumbled along the top of the filing cabinet for the mediscanner she kept there. With trembling hands she ran a quick scan and was stunned at the readout. 

"You…you're not an android." 

"A most astute diagnosis, Doctor, you are a credit to Starfleet Medical." 

"I thought… I thought it was another joke." Christine suddenly felt dizzy. "I'm sorry, I need to sit down." 

He took a small step back, allowing her access to the desk chair, but still blocking her from the door. 

"A joke, Lieutenant? I must have missed the humorous climax to our evening while I was struggling to gnaw through your scarf." 

"I thought it was… you know McCoy with another one of his stupid jokes. He showed me an article about the state of the art pleasure androids they've developed on Risa and …well he suggested I could use…that I should go to Risa get a Vulcan android, and… " "And?" He leaned back against the wall his arms folded across his chest. 

"Well, you were behaving very strangely." 

"I was behaving strangely?" 

"Not like yourself, you called me Christine." "That is your name is it not?" 

"You didn't go back to the ship…and the candles and the romantic dinner and wine and the, ogling…"

"Ogling?" 

"You were looking down the front of my dress." 

"As I recall your dress did not have much of a front." 

"Anyway…at first I thought you might be having a reaction to something environmental, but Risa is a Federation class one planet so I ruled that out. Then it came to me that the reason you weren't acting like yourself was because you weren't you. So I kind of put two and two together…and well, figured that McCoy had ordered an android copy of you…"

"It would appear your mathematical skills are on a par with your prowess in logical deduction." He nodded tightly. 

"Am I going to be court-martialed?" 

"I do not believe either of us would wish to relive the events of last night before a Starfleet Tribunal. Perhaps we could simply agree to put the incident behind us." 

"Thank you." she nodded softly. "If it makes it any less uncomfortable for you I'm putting in for a transfer to Fleet Ops in San Francisco." 

"That is not necessary, Doctor." "It's…necessary for me. It was a mistake for me to stay after McCoy came back." 

"I would ask you to reconsider that decision ,Doc…Christine. You are a valued member of this crew, and your absence would be…felt…deeply." 

"I don't know," she sighed. "I'm so tired I can't think straight right now. I've been running on caffeine and righteous indignation for the past three hours." 

"You are on duty now?" 

"Not for another few hours." 

He turned away from her and moved toward the door. Stifling a yawn she snatched her empty coffee cup and followed behind him. 

"When we mate…" He stopped so abruptly she only narrowly missed walking into him. He cleared his throat "when we make love…I would not wish to be restrained. I would want… to touch you." 

It took a moment for her sleep deprived brain to grasp the implications of the words he'd spoken. 

"You want to…us to…"She could feel the bright red flush on her face spreading across her entire body. 

"I believe that is what I said." 

"When, you said when? Not "if"?"

He turned back to face her, his eyes as soft as they'd been last night in the moonlight. "I believe we have moved past “if", Christine." 

Suddenly the pieces of the last twelve hours snapped into clear focus. 

"So what was going on last night…the candle and the wine…you let me tie you to the bed…why did you do that?" 

"I desired to demonstrate my willingness to meet your needs." 

"My needs?" 

"I wanted to please you…as a man…as a human lover would please you. I was uncertain as to what you would require." 

"And your needs, what do you require?" “You,” he raised an amused eyebrow. "You had expressed such a willingness in the past, I had hoped that might still be the case." 

"I see. So if I had not beamed back to the ship?" 

"We could have engaged in a prolonged discussion of linguistics." "Linguistics?" she frowned. 

"Words like willingness," he brushed an errant curl from her cheek allowing his fingertips to trail up along the alien curve of her ear, "and needs." Then brushed whisper light kisses along the path his fingers had forged. 

"And prolonged?" 

"Most assuredly prolonged." 

"Here…now?" 

"It would seem so." He pulled her, unresisting, against him and captured her lips in a bruising kiss as his hands busied themselves unfastening her uniform tunic. Christine reluctantly broke the kiss and hastily scanned the small office. 

"The desk or the credenza?" 

Spock studied the choices for a moment running various scenarios through his mind. "The credenza," he decided swatting away the collections of journalpadds covering the top before easing her down onto the surface. Her own hands occupied themselves in freeing him of his uniform tunic which she flung onto the floor, his pants were not far behind. 

"I am sorry, Christine, I had intended to preface the experience with romantic feelings." 

"You're not an android, right?" 

He raised a puzzled eyebrow, "I believe we have already established that fact." 

"Then we're good." 


	6. Chapter 6

A bleary eyed Leonard McCoy palmed open his office door triggering the automatic lighting presets. Christine had really gotten him good last night, and how she'd managed to get that humorless greenblooded hobgoblin to help her was beyond his imagination. She and Spock made a pretty formidable team. In retrospect, maybe the surprise screening of "My Vulcan Love Master" had been a tactical error on his part. He was out over a thousand credits and still hadn't had a decent night's sleep.

He brightened upon seeing the blinking alert message on the viewscreen. Setting his mug of strong black coffee by his terminal he settled in to savor the fruits of his revenge. He clicked the message box and was informed that his video was ready for viewing. 

Furious over Chapel's prank, he'd been seized with inspiration in the early morning hours. Sneaking into the zenozooilogical lab he'd managed to smuggle out a dozen Dicletian Dragon Bats, stowing them in the credenza in Christine's office. Chapel was absolutely phobic about the hideous, though perfectly harmless, creatures, and still nursing his wounds from he little prank on Risa, he could barely contain his glee at seeing see her hysterically screaming and scurrying around the office as the bats swooped around her. 

It had cost him several shots of his prized brandy, but he'd been able to convince O'Reilly to set up a motion activated video recorder in the office ceiling of Christine's office He settled back into his leather office chair with a grin worthy of the Cheshire cat and started the video. Revenge was a dish best served with hot coffee. 

"What the …" McCoy's jaw dropped. "Son of a … that blasted Vulcan!" Instead of a dozen dragon bats and Christine in hysterics the screen was filled with… an ass…and not just any ass but a faintly green half Vulcan ass. And under the Vulcan there was a woman, he couldn't see her face but the moaning he certainly recognized from last night. 

"Blast the pair of them!" he exclaimed as he pressed the button to erase the tape. Apparently Christine had found out about the bats in the credenza and dummied up this ridiculous excuse for a sex tape to get back at him. "Yeah, Spock and Chapel going at it like a pair of horny teenagers. How stupid do they think I am to fall for that again?" he grumbled. “Fool me once but not twice!" 

"Computer location: Chapel, Christine?" 

"Located, Chapel, Christine quarters of First Officer, sleeping area." 

"Spock's quarters? In a pig's eye!" Those darn PerScan units were supposedly unhackable. Christine must still have Spock helping her to be able to fake something like that. 

Somehow he was going to get both of them, it might take some time and thought, but somehow he was going to get them both but good. 

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this piece came from an article about the original TOS writer's guides that said McCoy was fond of practical jokes, though I don't recall every actually seeing any of his practical jokes in the series.


End file.
